Those that couldn't be saved
by Yer a wizard Holly
Summary: 'Journal entry 006: He's back again, the boy with green eyes, and he won't leave me alone. He calls me mutant, friend, monster- he disgusts me. I want him to leave me alone, but he doesn't want to. I can't wait until a mutant comes and kills him. Then I'll be at peace again.' Rated T for strong language
1. Chapter 1

**I know I'm writing another story, but this appeared and wouldn't leave me alone. It wouldn't let me write my other fanfic, so I'll probably be differing between the two. Unlike my usual writing style, this is quite vague (at least in the starting chapter) and only took 10 MINUTES TO WRITE.  
><strong>

**Anyway, tiny rant over. Disclaimer: I don't own Adventure Time or I'd probably make it really dark and stuff. :D**

* * *

><p>Prologue<br>The Ways of Living in an Apocalypse

* * *

><p>It happened too quickly for most to prepare. Where houses once stood; nothing but ash remained. Bodies, charred and lifeless, were scattered across the street- the smaller ones were the more painful to see. Food became scarce, and night became brutal.<p>

The Mutants were loud. Too loud.

Those that were alive were dangerous, human instinct outrunning all other senses. Those that would live outside the Quarantines were killed by the Mutants, or become Infected and turn into one of them themselves. When someone became ill in Quarantine, the Survivors would usually die too soon, weak and unhealthy from the radiation that surrounded them.

So many began to live in gangs; scared of outsiders, of new threats that may befall them. Others lived by themselves, their weapons a sharp mind and strength, the urge to live surpassing everything else.

I was one of the latter, fate to issue a death of dying alone and without anyone to miss you. It may have been scary to some, but I welcomed the peace.

I had survived enough already in my childhood.

* * *

><p><strong>Yeah, so, review and stuff! It's super cool and mathematical!..<br>**

**Peace out! *tries to act cool and fails miserably- like usual*  
><strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**_WARNING: VERY DARK, INCLUDES INAPPROPRIATE THEMES. _**

Disclaimer: Adventure Time and its characters do not belong to me.

* * *

><p>Chapter One<br>The Darkness of Childhood

* * *

><p>They had watched us in our cages; staring through wire walls, sneering at us with yellowed teeth and empty eyes. Every day became repetitive; they would bring with them a new medication to test, and leave with another body to add to the rest outside the Quarantine. Death hung in the lab like a cloud, reminding us time and time again that we were never- could never- be safe, that we would never escape.<p>

I was one of their favourites, or the most favourite, because I didn't scream in fear when they came in the night to have 'fun'. I let them finish with what they wanted from my body, and then remained silent unless instructed to as they left in the night- never complaining, never refusing. If I did, I would get hurt, and anything they done in hatred would be worse than the abuse that marked my body.

It became routine, normality in my childhood.

I was only eight at the time when it started.

* * *

><p>"Faster, freak."<p>

His sneer flashed in my mind- I didn't need to look behind me to know that I was being watched, so I continued with training. Every step, every movement calculated to cold precision, copying what the instructor had shown us. I had regretted wearing such loose clothing when I had flipped in the air and noticed his eyes- green orbs twinkled with lust as he looked at me, an age gap of ten years separating us.

"I said faster, freak!"

"Yes, sir."

My training became erratic; I could feel the man was becoming interested. The man, a scientist surely, was getting closer. Too close. His breath tickled the back of my neck when I performed a perfect high-kick, and he had placed a hand on my shoulder to stop me.

_No. Not now. Please.  
><em>

By the time the last thought had left my conscious, the man had already locked the door and pressed me against a wall. My crying just fueled him on, and my sorrow became a new aphrodisiac for the scientists and others to use, telling me to not stop and threatening me when I did.

Weakness meant sadness, but my scarred mind didn't seem to remember.

* * *

><p>"Slut."<p>

I was called that many times, by the scientists that abused me or other prisoners in the lab. They knew, of course they knew, that when I left the cages with a doctor or scientist in the middle of the night and returned weeping and tired, what had happened. I had expected empathy, pity even, but all I was given was vengeful stares and malice-filled eyes, since they believed more happened than what really did.

So it was when I was almost killed for "breathing too loudly", that the names stopped, and people really knew what happened.

Bruises, black and blue from beatings that lined my body and scars that marked my skin. No, it wasn't what they believed to be love- more like the opposite. A toy to play with, a life to ruin, all because humans hold that disgusting emotion called lust.

I was one worthless life, and a mistake of a life at that. So I kept quiet, played their game, and focused on staying alive. Because I had been taught to survive, no matter what.

If only those that had taught me such a saying would've known how far I would go to stay alive.

* * *

><p>"I love you."<p>

I had been told this only twice; once by a girl too confused about what love really was, and by a young man who was always strangely delicate with my body. He had had green eyes and blonde hair, quite handsome if it hadn't been how he expressed such emotions like love. His smile was genuine when he had said it, the hug he had given me too, and the abuse he gave me when I didn't reply was more than real.

He didn't abuse with love (which I really wished he did), no, with violence. Cut after cut, punch followed by kick, until my body no longer looked human and blood covered my broken face. His beatings became more painful when I started to cry in pain, my sorrow adding to his anger.

"Whore! You fucking whore!"

And so I had sat, abused and beaten, as the man who had confessed his love for me continued to beat me.

It became how my teenage years were spent.

I was fifteen at the time.

* * *

><p>If my story continues like this, I will make this an M since this has already become VERY dark. For those who couldn't tell, I didn't want to write it out in my story and decided to keep it vague, Marshall (yes, Marshall, he's just acting sad right now) is being raped. Yep, rape, because Rebecca Sugar said that genderbend characters' have different lives than normal ones do, and I wanted to write a sad story.<p>

Thank you to everyone who has read my story, it's cool to see that people are interested.

-Holly


End file.
